


Saints Will Rise

by Ofmanynames



Category: Saints Row
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-04-30 10:13:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14494716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ofmanynames/pseuds/Ofmanynames
Summary: Continuation of Saints Behaving Badly. Ang has woken to a new world, a city no longer belonging to the Saints, and idiots everywhere, especially the idiot who is now chief of police, who she technically didn't break up with. It's time to get things back to how she likes it, after all, she is the Boss.





	1. La maison est où le meurtre est (Home is where the murder is)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my two betas who are somehow still helping out, I adore you two, chyrstis & hunny!

Chapter 1- La maison est où le meurtre est (Home is where the murder is)

 

XXX

" _Do not try to claim the higher ground, Amelia. We both know what you have done in the past," Benedict Capulet stated as he twirled the ring on his finger._

" _You want me to brainwash a little girl!"_

" _I want you to gently reinforce how important family is to my daughter," he said with that calm cold voice which informed her that he was tired of her protests. "Angelique is the only member of my bloodline left, I will not lose her." His jaw clenched at the thought. "If you do not want to perform like the good little puppet like you are, I will not hesitate to inform some of your," he paused studying his nails for a moment, "what would you call them? Former clients? Exactly where you are."_

" _You son of a bitch."_

" _Quite right."_

_XXX_

"Hey." Troy said as he pulled the privacy curtain closed, shutting the two of them away from prying eyes. She didn't answer him, of course. She hadn't answered for three years now. He would have forgotten her voice by now if he hadn't saved that cursing voice mail of hers. He often wished he had saved some of the loving ones, but how could he have seen this coming?

Three years without hearing her voice, without seeing her eyes. No, that was a lie, he saw her eyes, but there was no one home behind them. Coma victims didn't keep their eyes closed all the time, TV had lied a lot to him. In three years, he had learned more about coma care than he would have ever liked to know. Among the things TV had lied about was that having people on their backs for extended amount of time that was the road to bedsores; she had to be repositioned every few hours which was why she lay on her side facing the chair he would be sitting in. Then there was the eyes; the first day he had visited and found her eyes taped shut with scotch tape, he had thought it was some nurse's idea of a prank, but it was standard practice. She would open them on her own, a reflex, they told him. Drops were also needed every couple of hours to keep from drying out.

The first time she had opened them when he was there was a month after the explosion, he had felt hope soar through him only to have the doctor crush it with the truth. It was the same with movements and the occasional moan or word. The doctor did assure him that things like that were normal and a good sign. They didn't know why she was still comatose, her body had healed from the trauma, and her skin was an even tone now that the skin grafts had healed, though she had scars now, her face carrying two of them. There was no sign of the coma breaking, however, and the longer she was in it, the less likely she would wake up without brain damage. Or worse, she might never wake up.

He took off his hat, rubbing his hand through his hair before tossing the hat on the bed next to her. He had gotten a haircut right after his promotion, trying to look more professional with a short roman cut.

She would hate it.

He sat down in the chair after moving it closer so he could take her hand in his., like always whenever he took it there was a moment when she squeezed his back. He glanced over at the flowers on the small table, noting he needed to bring new ones when he came next The florist always gave him weird looks when he picked up the order. He guessed it was either that not many women liked a bouquet of tiger lilies and pussy willows, or it was the insistence that the tiger lillies be the exact gingery shade of her hair.

"Johnny's last appeal is coming up," he sighed as he rubbed his thumb over her ring finger. Before the explosion she had been wearing his ring, a teal topaz on a silver band, both her favorites. He had been surprised she had been wearing it when he pulled her from the river, what with the whole having found out some way he was a cop. He liked to believe despite her expletive-laden voicemail, her wearing the ring was a sign they still had a chance.

If she'd just wake the fuck up.

The ring was at his home, back in the box since in the prison it would be stolen. He hated the fact she was stuck in the prison hospital, but he refused to risk her again. The prison was safe and with him being the Chief of Police, no one would fuck with her. He had made sure of it.

"I can't save him, Angel," he said softly. He squeezed her hand, hoping for that reflex reaction that would have her squeezing back as if she was awake. It wasn't his lucky day, her hand just layed limp in his. "I can't lose you both," he barely got the words out through the tightness in his throat. He sat there in silence, rubbing his thumb over her hand every so often for the next hour. If he blocked out the sounds from the machines, he could convince himself that she was merely sleeping. She'd wake up, brushing her hair out of her face with a sleepy smile before rising for the day and offering him a cup of her god-awful coffee. Which she'd probably smash in his face.

He'd be okay with that.

"The fuck are you doing here?" The snarled comment came as the curtain was pushed back, revealing Gat in an orange jumpsuit. "Yo, get the fuck off her. I don't got to tell you she wouldn't be happy with you on her, do I?"

"She can tell me herself then." He snapped back as he picked up his hat, trying to discreetly wipe his eyes. He usually kissed her goodbye, but with Gat here, he figured it would turn ugly. The two men stood glaring at each other. "Another prisoner do that or a guard?" The left side of his face was almost the same color as the gang's old flags.

"The fuck you care?"

"We used to be friends."

"Friends? Is that what they calling it nowadays? Playing everyone like a bitch? Sure, yeah we were great friends." Gat nodded at the girl in the bed. "Worked out great for all of us didn't it?"

"Fuck you, Johnny," he snapped.

"Been there, done that. Remember?"

"Take the fucking deal," he finally said, after glaring back at him for a few minutes.

"Fuck you, I'm not spending my life in a cage," he hissed and stepped in close to Troy. It was the closest the two of them had been since he stabbed him. "And I'm not letting you keep her like this anymore. When I go, she goes." Johnny grinned, part of himself enjoying the horrified look on Troy's face, a part of him, that he thought long buried, hating it.

XXX

"There is a fine line between vengeance and stupidity and you are walking it, Monsieur Gat," The chicken man informed him, for not the first time. Johnny often wondered why he bothered to stay in touch with Jean-Baptiste, as the old man always tried to father him, giving him advice and shit.

Not that he ever listened, mind you.

Still, the old man was dependable, helping him take care of Eesh, only asking in return on updates on Ang. Not that there were many.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm not living like an animal for the rest of my life, I'm Korean, you have any idea how long we live? Too fucking long to be in a cage," he said. The old man had heard it often, and Johnny swore he could hear him mouthing the words along with him.

"You do realize that once you are snuffed out, there is nothing more. You will cease to exist." The man was a staunch atheist, but he wasn't one of  _those_  atheists until this topic came up.

"You know our beliefs differ," he said with a chuckle, his fingers going to the beads on his wrist. Most people found Jesus or Muhammad here, not Johnny. He had to be different and find Buddha. It made more sense to him than anything else, what with the whole karmic debt shit and all. "And you know Ang believed differently too," he said gently. He heard the old man sigh.

"I know." He waited for him to launch into his usual spiel. "No man should be present at both the birth and death of a child," Jean-Baptiste said surprising him. Usually the man always repeated himself on events in Ang's life and how young she was. "I won't be there, I can't…" With the removal of the feeding tube, she'd die not of starvation, but dehydration.

"Yeah I know. I'll be here for her until I take the walk," he reassured the man.

"Thank you, Monsieur Gat." There was a pause. "Johnny." He hung up the phone, giving the doctor a look. The doc was on the lawyer's payroll, mostly there to make sure Ang was okay but did the regular shit too, which was probably the only reason why he had lasted this long in prison. People here had made it their mission to take shit out on him, guards especially. Not that he cared, it kept him busy since there was nothing else to do in this hellhole. Fighting, working out, and cleaning, that had been his whole life for the last two years. It was his own fault he was in here, he really shouldn't have tried to finish the job of killing Troy.

XXX

My mouth felt like I had been fellating a saguaro, drier than sand, and full of cracks that hurt and honestly felt like they were providing the only moisture in my mouth via blood as I wiggled my sandpaper tongue around. My body hurt like I had been hit by a truck, everything was stiff and my limbs were heavy as if I was on an amusement ride that employed g-force as part of the fun. It was never fun. And given how my head was spinning, I wondered if I was on a ride.

After a few minutes, I managed to move my hand, only to slap myself in the face when I went to rub my forehead which was pounding.

"Ow," my voice sounded weird and my throat hurt.

"Holy shit," I heard someone say and a clattering of something metal. I felt around my face when I couldn't open my eyes,something was holding them closed. "Here let me, Miss Capulet," someone said as they pushed my hand away pulling something sticky off my eyelids. I squinted at the overly bright light, not sure exactly where I was.

"Easy, Miss Capulet," the man said when I attempted to slap his hand that was waving light into my eyes. "Can you tell me your full name?"

"Angelique Juliette Mary Capulet," I said, winching at it. I never could decide what I hated more, my middle name or my confirmation name. At least my confirmation name wasn't a play on a play that many missed the fucking point of.

"Can you follow my finger?" I turned my head to follow it as it strangely faded out of sight once it passed my nose.

"Hold still, please." The man turned away to take notes on a clipboard. I raised my hand and tried to see it, after a moment closing my right eye, only to be greeted with total darkness.

"What happened to my eye?" I asked hoarsely as I reached up to touch my face. My face felt weird, a scar I didn't remember getting. A huge scar that ran down my forehead, across my eye and over my cheek.

"Can you tell me what is the last thing you remember?"

"Can I get a drink?" I asked, trying to clear my throat. He turned away, my head felt too heavy to lift up and follow him. What the hell was wrong with me? I vaguely remembered getting breakfast with Johnny this morning, both of us pissed at… I rubbed my forehead, managing not to smack myself this time. Right, Troy. Fucking idiot. I remembered driving to meet with Monroe? Did a car hit us? There was a hole in my memory, I couldn't remember. Why couldn't I remember? Why did I have a new scar that didn't feel like one? Why couldn't I see out my left eye? Before I could fall into a panic attack, the man was back with a styrofoam cup with a straw in it.

"I want you to take very small sips, too fast and you might make yourself sick, understand?" I nodded and sipped carefully. My throat was tight and sore like I had had strep throat, the water hurting, almost burning with it's coolness. He pulled it away gently before I could have too much in his eyes and put it down. "Now, can you tell me what you remember?"

"I was driving with Johnny, we were going to a meeting. Now tell me why can't I see?" I demanded, trying to sit up but I still felt so weak, my hair trapped under my back making it hard to move my hair. Wait. That wasn't right. "Mirror, now," I demanded.

"Miss Capulet-"

"Get me a mirror, or when I get out of this bed I will wear your testicles as earrings," I snarled. As he scampered away, I realized that he had been calling me by my real name, not the one I had been going by, not the one on my ID. While he rummaged for a mirror, I felt at my hair, it was dry and brittle as if I hadn't conditioned it in forever. I wrapped my fingers around a lock and pulled it from behind me, pulling it in front of my eyes, which were wide in horror at how long my hair was. He came back, holding a hand mirror, his skin pale and sweating.

I didn't recognize the face in the mirror at first. My face. Gods, what happened to my face? There was a scar that cut into my lower lip and down my chin. The other one was exactly how I felt it, through my eyebrow and down to my cheek. The reason I couldn't see out of my eye… I pushed the mirror away from my face. I managed to turn on my side and pull the cover up over my shoulder. I couldn't see anything on this side since I was missing my eye. There was nothing in my left socket, just the pink flesh where my eye should have been.

"Miss Capulet?"

"Go away."

XXX

Troy downed another shot of the cheap whiskey, he was numb enough now that it didn't burn anymore. It had stopped burning sometime yesterday, sometime between bottles two and three.

Or was it four and five? He had lost count of how much he had drunk by now.

He had been drinking almost non-stop for the last week? Two weeks? He wasn't sure what day it was anymore to be honest. He had finally taken the vacation time he had logged for the last two years and planned to do nothing but murder his liver over the next three weeks since he'd lost everything.

He pushed back on the remote; he couldn't remember how to loop the chapter, and watched it again. It was him and Ang cuddling together as they watched a movie.

There had been a metric shitton of footage from that blasted nanny cam that had threatened to destroy his career. He had managed to take it out of the archive before leaving on vacation. This was his only link to her left.

The liquor wasn't dulling his pain anymore. He couldn't believe he was actually losing her now. He had held out hope, believed she would wake up, hoping she'd do so during one of his visits, but nothing. Always nothing.

It was the story of his life, wasn't it?

Everything he did came out wrong. His work exploded in his face, new gangs popped up less than a year after the Saints broke up, fighting and destroying each other until only three remained, each gang giving him different problems. Ang was in coma for no reason, nothing had changed in the end. And soon, he wouldn't even have that fucking hope of her left.

He watched himself run his hand through her hair, pushing it back behind her ear, her putting her hand in his face when he attempted to distract her with kisses on her neck.

" _Watch the movie."_

" _This is the stupidest movie I've ever seen."_

" _You will not besmirch the genius that is Bruce!"_ She snapped at him, whacking him in the face with a pillow.

" _Bubba Ho-Tep is the dumbest movie I've seen in my life."_ She hit him again with the pillow. He paused the video as his phone rang. He eyed the phone with dread. He knew what the call was. It was the only reason why anyone would be calling this time of night. He took another shot and turned off the TV after taking one last look of her annoyed face. He would miss that look.

"Bradshaw," he said as firmly as he could. He wasn't drunk enough for this conversation.

"Sorry to bother you at this hour sir, I was told to call you about the prisoner -"

"What time did she pass?"

"That's what I'm calling about. She didn't." Troy sighed.

"Call me back when she does."

"Wait, sir, she's awake." A chill ran down his spine. Maybe he was too drunk. There was no way he just heard what he heard. "Sir, are you there?"

"She's awake?"

"Yes sir, she's already cursed out three people, I figured since you wanted to know when she passed, you'd want to know about this. The shift change is in an hour, if you want to grab the ferry over."

"I have to go." He hung up the phone, his stomach rolling. There was no way she was alive and yelling. Panic, happiness, relief, and horror washed over him in a rush. He felt like he was having a panic attack but that wasn't his thing, he had never had one of those.

_**BLARGH** _

The contents of his stomach came up with a vengeance as his heart pounded, threatening to burst.

She was alive.

He needed to see her now.

XX

"Psst. Hey!" I buried my head under the blanket. Whoever it was, could go fuck off. "Hey, is it really you?" I had a feeling whoever it was, wasn't going to go away. I moved so I could see whoever it was and saw a kid in a beanie looking at me. "You're really her, aren't you?" He had a big goofy smile on his face.

"Go away," I said before moving back to block my sight of him.

"Hey wait, my brother ran with you. He was in the Saints. Told me all about you. And we got to get you out of here."

I laughed bitterly, pushing myself up to look at him. I didn't feel as weak as I had a few hours ago since the doctor had let me have some soup. It had been shitty chicken noodle and had turned my stomach, but I felt somewhat better than I had when I woke up.

"Why?" I asked. I took another look at him. He wasn't as young as I thought he was and he was familiar. I had seen this kid somewhere before but I couldn't place him. "Who's your brother?" I demanded.

"Julio Mendoza." The name had me smiling fondly. I vaguely remembered him telling me about having a little brother, and now that I thought about it, that beanie looked familiar.

"Shortness runs in the family doesn't it?" I couldn't help saying. "How's he doing?"

"I haven't seen him for a while, he moved in with our tía after getting shot last year when one of the new gangs tried to take over our block." I felt rage fill me. "Our place isn't exactly handicap friendly."

"New gang?" I snarled. I wasn't sure what pissed me off more, that a new gang had sprung up or that Julio had gotten himself hurt. "Where's the Saints?"

"Without anyone to lead 'em the Saints fell apart… Once the Brotherhood, Ronin, and Samedi showed up the few that were left dropped their flags before they got killed," he explained with a shrug.

"No one to lead them?" What the hell had happened?

"Nope, everyone ran, died, or got locked up." I couldn't help but wonder which of those were Johnny, my heart clenched at the idea of him being dead. Everything we had built up, gone. Goddamn fucking Troy. The Saints had been there for me, they had been… I struggled to think of what would be the best word for what all of them had been. Julio had been like an annoying little brother, or at least what I had always thought one would be like. Johnny was like that cousin who was somehow both a dork and hot that you know you shouldn't crush on. Dex had been the big brother who thought he was the dad of everyone and told everyone what to do. Troy… I pushed away all thoughts of how he had been family, how much I loved him and how he had fucked us all over. I would deal with that later.

"Miss Capulet, what are you doing?"

"The name is Montague," I snapped as I continued to get up. The world was wonky for a moment, my head too heavy due to the hair. I had forgotten what having it was like. "And I am leaving."

XXX

Being hungover, borderline drunk, with six energy drinks in him, on a boat was a bad idea. But Troy had no choice if he wanted to see her before visitors were allowed. He knew the bastard godfather of hers would be here in less time that it should be possible to fly up from Louisiana. He had to see her first, had to explain everything to her, had to apologise. He had to do right by her; it was the least he could do.

He watched the other ferry head back to the mainland and hoped the doctor wasn't on it. He had so many questions. He wanted to make sure she was okay to talk about all this first; if he should actually see her or if it would hurt her more. He rubbed his face and sighed. He should have shaved before coming up here, he looked like a trainwreck. Then again, maybe that would win him points? He knew he'd need all the help he could get. She wouldn't be happy no matter her state.

XXX

"Holy shit that was amazing. I mean, seriously, how the hell do you pull something like that off?" Carlos was just like his brother, only if his brother downed a bunch of speed instead of pot. The kid didn't really shut up, he was like a puppy.

"I'm just that good," I said with a shrug. Truth was, the doctor turned out to be working for my godfather, there to keep watch over me and had no problem whatsoever providing me with clothes and getting me on the ferry without issue. Security was surprisingly lax for a prison. Perhaps it was because it was on an island? Or it could be because everyone always listened to a white guy in a lab coat?

I leaned against the railing, watching the water as the ferry chugged along. The water was sluggish, strangely thick, and smelled ungodly but still it was a better sight than that new eyesore. My Row was gone, replaced with this shiny decadence that was obviously designed by someone with money but not taste. Father had referred to things like this as nouveau riche, and had hated them with a vengeance. After having to squint in the middle of the night due to its brightness, so did I.

"Seriously?"

I grinned at his baffled expression. "Oui, I have that way about me." I looked down at the clothes, Jean-Baptiste saved for me. They were ugly, like something I would wear to church with my grandmother with far too much starch. "But I'm usually much better dressed."

"Thanks for busting me out."

"Least I could do. After all you got yourself stabbed."

"Shivved, there's a difference," he corrected me. "Shivving's a lot more personal because you have to make it whereas you can just buy any old knife." His sincerity made me chuckle.

"What were you in for, anyhow?"

"Little auto theft. I repo them for a cuz of mine, but I also like the shiny ones for myself. Got greedy and picked up in a berry trap."

"Seriously, we're still calling them berries?" I sighed. This city was so weird. And yet as I stepped off the ferry onto solid ground, it felt like home.

"Look, I know you didn't ask for it, but my advice is to just keep your head down.. Unless you got that doctor in your pocket, the cops will probably be looking for you. A lot's changed, I say ya just go buy a beer and soak up as much information as you can."

"You're a sweet kid, you know that?" I said as I ruffled his beanie.

"Hey, fuck you, I'm older than I look," he said as he fixed his beanie. I just shrugged.

"Try not to get caught," I said with a smile as I walked away from him. First things first. I needed new clothes.

XXX

While I had slept, the world had gone to shit, judging by the clothes in the second hand store. Short-shorts galore with horrid little sayings on them, tube tops with worse ones, and plastic heels everywhere. Gods, I was in the dark timeline, that was the only explanation for this horrid shit.

After nearly two hours, sixteen "Can I help you?"s, and one distraction due to a romance book from my favorite author, who had apparently put out new books, I was ready to go with a passable outfit for now. I leaned closer to the mirror in an attempt to apply some black lipstick that I had picked up, which was an irritating event as I kept closing my right eye out of habit, forgetting I had no left. This was going to take some adjustment. Lips a proper black, I couldn't help but giggle at the sight of me. A black lace shirt with an immodest amount of skin showing through the holes, a black plaid skirt that only came down halfway to my knees, and a lovely pair of four inch chunky heeled boots, I looked like I had raided a Hot Topic, which was probably where the clothes had come from. After a moment of inspection, I decided to grab the black widow cameo choker I had seen earlier and some hair bands to work my hair into pigtails. The final touch was a black eye patch that had a fleur-de-lis sticker I had found on it.

I wasn't quite sure what to do now. I didn't have a phone at the moment to call anyone, and frankly my memory of the numbers I had known all my life was disturbingly fuzzy. Perhaps I should have listened to the doctor and rested more.

I pushed the thought out of my head. What I really needed was a drink. It was probably a bad idea, but I was still going to do it. I needed problems I could actually deal with, not stuff that was at the moment beyond me. The clerk at Tee'N'Ay barely looked up from her cellphone as I walked in before doing a double take at me. I supposed with my outfit I either looked out of place or perhaps like one of the dancers. I looked down at my own less than stellar bosom. No, definitely out of place.

I took a seat at the bar and ordered a brandy. There was an awful lot of red in the room, all with similar tattoos, and behavior. Were they one of the new gangs? They looked like they had escaped from the boonies. I glared at the bartender as he dropped off a beer instead of a brandy, and ran back to the stripper he had been talking to. The TV caught my eye as I saw Johnny for a split second.

" _It's said by some, to be the trial of the century. A notorious member of a gang once known as 'The 3rd Street Saints,' Johnny Gat was arrested last year in an assassination attempt against then decorated police officer Troy Bradshaw. In the resulting trial, Gat was convicted of one count of attempted murder, and a staggering three hundred eighty-seven counts of 1st degree murder-_ "

"Hey Barry, turn that shit off!" One of the idiots in red snapped at the bartender who complied.

"Pardon moi, but I was watching that," I said between clenched teeth, glaring at him.

"I guess you're not anymore, are ya bitch?" He said getting a little too close, he smelled like a mix of an oil refinery and a teenage boy who had just discovered cologne. I gave him a friendly smile, my hand going to his chest, which made him look down, before smashing my unwanted beer against his head. I smiled in glee as he went down, clutching his glass-laden face.

"Turn it back on," I snapped.

" _In a few short moments, we'll be allowed back in the courtroom and we'll find out once and for all if Mr. Gat will be heading back to the Row or to death row. Back to you, Jack."_

"That idiot," I muttered aloud. The picture they had shown of him in the courtroom didn't have Jean-Baptiste with him as a lawyer, but rather that insipid moron Legal Lee. Jean-Baptiste would have been able to get Johnny off, he could have gotten Jesus community service. Ten bucks, he let his stupid pride get in the way or worse, spite. It looked like I woke up in time to save the day. Yet, again.

I was fortunate that the bar faced a mirror or I would have never seen the bat intent on bashing my head in. I ducked just in time, the air passing by disturbing my hair as the bat crashed into the bar. I grabbed for it.

I wasn't as strong as I should be. I broke out in a sweat, I was used to relying on my strength but it was suddenly gone.

No matter, three years of sleep didn't undo fifteen years of ballet. My legs were still strong and I could still kick like a motherfucker, especially in these boots.

My kick to my attacker's gut made him let go of the bat and drop to the floor, giving me a chance to hear that titillating snap as I kicked him in the face, his nose exploding in a gush of blood as his head rocketed back. Gods, I missed that sound.

I felt giggles threaten to burst out as I realized no one even paid attention to the whole exchange. Gods, I loved this city.

XXX

"I was going to say 'did you do something with your hair' but you look like a shitty third-tier character from a knock off fighting game."

Three years had changed many a thing The city was somehow prettier and grimmier, and my driving was surprisingly better. With the city having changed, I was glad I had rifled through my attacker's pockets and taken his phone that had a GPS on it, along with the shitty pickup truck that I had left at the broken gates, which I may have run into. With a flaming car crashing into the gates, my entrance into the courthouse was largely ignored, allowing me to have a grand entrance into the closed courtroom where Johnny was having his last appeal.

Now, standing on the door I managed to knock off the hinges, staring down Johnny, who wore a tasteful pinstriped suit, I felt silly in my outfit and very much like I had when I first joined the Saints.

"Fuck you, you can rescue yourself." I said and started to turn around.

"Oh, don't be such a whiny bitch. Get your burnt ass over here."

"I look good," I said, crossing my arms and glaring at him.

"You look like you rolled around in the clearance rack at Nobody Loves Me," he informed me. "Wait, no, did you get into a shitty larping group without letting me know?"

"You done, yet?"

"Maybe." He had a look of concentration on his face. "You look like you got rejected by Suicide Girls for being too gimmicky."

"Okay, you know what, rescue your own damn self," I said, walking away. I heard him laughing after me. I glared when halfway down the steps, he threw an arm around my shoulders.

"So, what shitty convention you dressed for, and where's my ticket?"

"I hate you so much."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: 2018 was a rough year and apologies for not releasing a new chapter. Hopefully this year will be different. Thank you to my two betas (Chyr & Hunny) for continuing to help me.

Time was a weird thing. Time had passed while I slept.

Slept, that sounded like I had chosen it.

Time was stolen from me and while it had past, it stole my city from me. Streets I knew were renamed or redirected, places I had hung out at had been torn down and tacky, gaudy shit took its place or worse, cookie-cutter houses. I hated those lifeless things; They reminded me of home, the inside as lifeless as the out.

"Is it just me, or did you get better at driving?" Johnny said as I took a turn much slower than I used to. "Maybe that sleep did you some good." I couldn't glare at him, like I had been able to yesterday.

No, wait, that was years ago.

I instead pulled to the side of the road and moved to kick him in the face again, only to be stopped by his hand on my leg. "I remember that trick of yours, and I am not taking one of those emo boots to my face."

"Then knock your shit off. I am not in the mood," I said, between clenched teeth.

"Geez, lighten up." He tried that winning smile he always used when he was attempting to get his way. It slowly withered up, the light in his eyes becoming uncertain and eventually skittering away from mine.

"Are you done?"

"Jesus, you and Eesh can kill with a look," he muttered as he sunk down in his seat, looking away from me. "Yeah, I'm done."

"Bien. I don't want to hear another asinine remark out of you."

After I scolded him, he remained quiet for the rest of the ride, save for the bouncing of his leg when we neared Aisha's place. About five minutes away he started fussing with his clothes and checking himself in the mirror.

"I look ok?" He finally asked as I pulled up to her house.

"You look like you always do. Like a smacked ass with that haircut. There's probably enough grease in your hair to cook Thanksgiving dinner," I informed him as I pulled into the driveway.

After a moment of fondling the door handle, he got out and strolled to the door. I watched him raise and lower his hand three times before checking his tie in the window and finally knocking.

Even from my place at the car, I could see the love on the pair's faces. The sharp angles of Johnny's face seemed to soften, those wicked lips parting in a goofy smile. Eesh had always been lovely, her new haircut framing her face, making her features stand out. A cascade of emotions crashed over her: relief, joy, rage, before her hand came up and slapped him hard enough that people probably heard it in the next state. Then she grabbed his tie and yanked him inside, slamming the door behind them.

XXX

My apartment was gone. Not that I really thought it was going to be there, but it would have been nice. They couldn't even replace it with a froyo place, no, just another disgusting tacky eyesore.

Everything was so different. I hated it. Things were maddeningly familiar, but alien, just enough to make the world feel fake. It wasn't like visiting a city I had been in before, it was worse as no time had passed for me. It was surreal. I felt like I was losing my mind. I missed so much, including my twenty-first birthday. I could finally legally drink, but of course, I didn't have an ID, which was why I was hoping someone would buy me a drink as I sat cashless at the bar.

So far, most men avoided my shy smiles or was it my eyes? Excuse me, eye. Gods that was going to take some getting used to. Was I supposed to modify my words? I didn't know how to handle it yet. Right now, I wanted to get drunk and forget for a minute. I looked down at the new clothes I was wearing; after Johnny's ribbing I got self-conscious and traded in the other outfit for something less outlandish. I kept the eye patch, however. The weird shit behind the lid made me feel light-headed every time it caught my eye. Sadly, the fleur-de-lis sticker had fallen off. Perhaps I'd sew one into it. Wait, could I even sew with one eye?

"Say, don't I know you?" I barely managed to bite off the automatic fuck off that was standard for such a cheap line and turned on a dazzling smile instead. He was older than me, his blond hair slicked back with enough grease for an order of fries, and his face made of angles. Unlike Johnny's it wouldn't scrape my knuckles when I punched him, however. Damn, he had a really punchable face.

"Non, but I'm sure if you buy me a drink, I'd be delighted to know you," I purred with a flutter of my lashes. The smarmy smile that appeared made me want to reconsider not punching him, but I held off, since he got me my cherry rum and RC with extra cherries.

He was running his mouth, his eyes looking everywhere except my face. I never understood men looking at my breasts, there wasn't much there, but they all liked them. I gave him a small smile when his hand brushed my knee. O _h yes,_ I knew what he wanted. I spread my legs ever so slightly as I raised a brow at him, encouraging his hand to stroke the outside of my thigh as he rambled on about some sort of business. As I watched him, I figured out why he looked so punchable. He reminded me of Troy. Perhaps it was the curve of his jaw?

" _Tell me, Chief Bradshaw, what do you make of the escape of the Butcher of Stilwater?"_

Jane's familiar voice caught my attention as did the responding voice.

" _Mrs. Valderrama, first of all, I'll remind you that referring to Miss Angelique Montague as the Butcher will end up with her lawyer suing,"_ he said drolly before taking a drag on a cigarette, _"again,"_ he added with a roll of his eyes.

I had several questions as I looked at him. First of all what the hell was on his face? It looked like a caterpillar ready to bite everyone.

" _Second of all, Miss Montague was never convicted of any crimes, and rumors of her being the Butcher are just that, rumors."_

" _Then why was she kept in Stilwater Prison?"_

" _As you well know Jane, we're a passionate city here, and her being there was just a precaution for her safety since someone tried to abduct her when the case against Johnny Gat came to light. To what end we never found out. We suspect that it was due to her very limited ties to the Saints, but as we have stated before, like many women in the Saints, she was just eye candy."_

I frowned at the TV. The punchable face tried getting in my way, but a hand to the side of his head put an end to that.

" _Miss Montague was always free to go, but we wish that she would contact the police so that we can make sure she's safe and inform her fiance of her whereabouts."_

I felt my face heat up. Whether it was from anger, embarrassment, or a softness I refuse to acknowledge, I didn't know. That caterpillar bastard thought I'd actually take him back after lying to me and calling me a piece of ass, wanting to use me for my money? Oh, hell no.

" _According to sources at the courthouse, she was there, breaking out Johnny Gat at his trial today."_ Jane showed the camera a photo of me that someone must have snapped when I broke down the door to the courtroom. I preened a bit inside at how nice I looked in my getup, and whoever took the photo did a great job of it. Troy flicked aside his cig as he took it from Jane, his eyes bulging slightly.

" _I don't know who the hell this bargain bin Hot Topic reject is, but that is not Angelique Montague."_

Bargain Bin reject? How. Dare. He.

" _And furthermore, the Saints are gone, I don't want to hear about them anymore. The Saints aren't a thing anymore,"_ he stressed.

 _Oh, we'll fucking see about that_. Despite my pushing of his face, Punchable was still caressing my thigh, his fingers trailing along the edge of my dress. How desperate was this loser? Still...

"How would you like to go upstairs and use that mouth for something other than rambling?" I purred to the strange man as I gently pulled him towards me by his tie, my other hand creeping up his thigh. He finally shut up and nodded, getting up so fast his clip-on tie came off.

"So, what should I call you?" Punchable asked me as we entered the hotel room. I grabbed him by his shirt, pulling him over to the bed where I sat with a flourish.

"For the next however long I choose, I am your god and I expect you to kneel before me," I said seductively as I spread my legs. Punchy looked at me with wide eyes, his mouth hanging open as he looked down at me. I snapped my fingers and pointed at the floor. After a moment he got down on his knees, his hands tentatively going to mine, and after a moment he spread my legs further, his fingers hooking under my knees to pull me closer as he kissed up my thighs. I leaned back on my elbows, a bit surprised it had actually worked. I was never really aggressive with anyone like this and honestly expected him to flee, but as he kissed his way up I was pleasantly surprised. I lifted up my hips to let him take off my underwear, relaxing back on my elbows as I watched him, his eyes shyly skittering away from mine as he lowered his mouth betwixt my thighs. At the touch of his tongue, I gasped and spread my legs more, propping them up on the edge of the bed as I grasped him by his unfortunately greasy hair. All that running off of his mouth gave his tongue some great flexibility as he circled my clit before moving lower to enthusiastically lick the most secret part of me.

I was close when I felt him start to slow down, almost like he was distracted, his arms moving before he rose up. I glared at him as I realized he was done and was moving on to fuck since he had managed to slip on a condom. I let him spread my legs, only to capture him between them and squeeze him as hard as possible.

"Damn woman, you got some strong thighs," his voice strained as he ran his hand down my thighs in an attempt to make me release him.

"Get back down there and finish the job," I snarled. His look was one of belittling humor, like I was a joke; it angered me. It was too much like Troy's bullshit smirk. I backhanded him, with all the rage I was feeling. He gave me a look of pure lust and longing, his hands running over my thighs.

"Again?" He begged, as he licked blood away from his lip. I raised an eyebrow. Weird, but when did I ever pass up hitting someone who annoyed me? His head snapped to the side, the sound of my slap echoing in the room. His look of ecstasy puzzled me, but I knew it was probably no different than my own as he scooted back down between my legs.

If I thought that he was enthusiastic before, he was giving new meaning to the word as returned to his duty like a madman. Soon enough I was coming on his tongue, my hands in his hair as I ground against his face. "Enough!" I finally gasped out after I became too sensitive and pushed his head away. He stroked his hands hesitantly over my thighs, and the way he avoided my eyes made me raise a brow. I had seen enough porn to begin to wonder if he was into, what was it called? Masochism? Hitting him made me feel good right now, giving me that much needed escape for my anger. Did I want to press my luck with some stranger and hurt him more for my amusement? I had already gotten off so if he left in a huff it wasn't a downer, but if it worked, I'd probably have more fun throughout the night. I snapped my fingers at him, "Get on the bed," I ordered, pleasantly surprised that he obeyed as he laid down on his back, his cock throbbing with anticipation. I grinned as I got up and moved over to him, running my sadly, blunt nails down his chest. "Tell me what you want," I purred.

"Please," he whined as his skin turned bright red. I understood now why Troy had always gotten a kick out of this.

"Please what? Tell me or you will not be allowed pleasure tonight," I threatened causally as I trailed my fingers up his thigh and boldly cupped his testicles in my hand, giving him a gentle squeeze when he hesitated. The way he writhed on the bed made me feel lightheaded as blood rushed downstairs.

"Please fuck me, Mistress," he finally gasped. I barely kept a straight face when he called me that, and focused on swinging my leg over his hip and seating myself firmly on his cock. I rode him slowly, stilling every time he started panting. I was having fun teasing him. I felt like I had control for the first time since waking up. I laughed with gleeful abandon as I rose off of him just as he started to come, pinning his arms down as he tried to gain some control as he spasmed uncontrollably. Oh, I knew the pain of a denied orgasm, but damn, the look on his face was empowering.

I flopped down on the bed next to him, stretching out, suddenly tired. I didn't want to go to sleep. What if I didn't wake up again? No, I had too much to do. I had to get the Saints back in order, take back the city, and get-

"That was amazing!" Punchable said, interrupting my thoughts. "I got to hand it to you doll, I never-"

"Quiet," I snapped. "You may leave." His voice was grating and irritating now that I wasn't lust-blind.

"But I thought-" he started as he sat up.

"You would like to go again?" I asked as I flicked his flagging erection, making him hiss, but the look on his face was eager. "You like this, don't you? Being abused?"

"I wouldn't pay for it, if I didn't," he said with a chuckle.

"Wait, pay for it?" I narrowed my eyes at him. "Do you think I'm a prostitute?" I snarled as I sat up.

"Well yeah." He looked confused. "I get a redhead here every Thursday, I just figured with the whole," he waved his hand between the two of us, "I had no idea you were a natural redhead, usually the girls-" I was horrified. I was not my sister.

"Just stop talking." I snarled, cutting him off. "Use your mouth for other things," I told him. Knowing that I wasn't a whore seemed to suddenly steal his boldness, but as I raised my hand to hit him, he was suddenly pressing his lips to mine. He wasn't the worst kisser. It was pleasant, nothing earth-shattering, just nice. I put my hand on his head and pushed him down my body. I realized he was a much better kisser to other parts and did well at taking commands. When I'd move him to a spot he'd stay there until I told him to move or moved him myself. Anything I told him to do, he did it without variation. A willing and obedient slave sounded so good at the moment and I planned to use him. He was going to pay alright, but not with money.

XXX

"Here's what's going to happen," I started as I stepped back into the room, still drying my hair. Prison had not been kind toit Not only was it longer than I ever wore it but it was a dried out mess. I had to get the hotel to deliver multiple bottles of conditioner to restore its natural beauty. Fortunately, Punchable had been more than willing to pay for it, along with helping me wash it. He had been more than willing to obey me outside of sexual things, eager as a puppy to please me as he worked my hair. He was halfway decent at it, making me wonder how often he did this. It weirded me out, but at the same time it made me feel better. No, not just better; but in control for the first time since waking up.

Punchable was still laying on his stomach, his ass still very red, borderline purple from me spanking him, a punishment for pulling tangles, something I suspected he did on purpose. I worried if I had gone overboard as I doubted he would be able to sit comfortably for a day or two, but he had come like a fountain. He hadn't been kidding when he said he liked being punished and ordered around. "You will rent this room every Thursday like usual, but you will only be servicing me. I expect you to get tested and have clean results by next week and you will stay clean. You will be here every week. If I decide to come, I will come; if not, you will not be allowed to. I am not a whore, I will not be taking your money, so do not offer it. Never at any point will I tell you my name, nor will you seek it out. The moment you find out, this ends. Do you understand, pet?" I asked as I drew my nails down his sore ass.

"Yes, Mistress!"

"Good boy." He watched me as I finished dressing, keeping that mouth of his shut. As long as he didn't talk he was bearable in a way. "I will see you next week." I ran my hand over his cheek, and the look of worship in his eyes unsettled me. "Make sure you either wash your hair or leave the product out, it's disgusting," I said as I slapped his face one last time.

XXX

I was glad that while some things changed others stayed the same, like the quality of Freckle Bitches. It was still horrible and disgusting, but somehow delicious. It was comforting that something hadn't changed. Even if I had. I took a breath. Yes, I had changed. I didn't just sleep for three years, something inside of me had changed. Did it happen before the explosion? The days leading up to it were hazy, as were many other things I couldn't remember clearly. Like what my mother sounded like. I used to remember her voice so clearly, but suddenly I couldn't. Hells, even my father's was hard to remember.

It hurt. Gods everything hurt.

I sighed before picking at my fries. Nothing but empty carbs full of artery-hardening grease, but it was comforting right now. Perhaps I'd have something healthier later; there better be a froyo place still in this eyesore of a city. For now, I decided the best course of action was to make a list. Lists helped me organize my thoughts, usually when I was considering ending it, but that was of the past. I was going to live and I was going to stop sulking.

Somewhat.

_Convince Johnny To Restart the Saints (Easy)_

_Punch Troy (Easy peasy)_

_Convince John-Baptise to help legitimize the Saints (Super hard)_

_Convince John-Baptise I'm not a fucking child (Impossible)_

_Punch Troy in the stomach (He's gotten fat so even easier than before)_

_Get rid of the other gangs (Child's play)_

_Establish new sources of income (meh)_

_Establish new sources of laundering (see previous)_

_Take over the city_

_Punch Troy in the dick (Won't be hard anymore!)_

I sucked on my milkshake as I re-read my list again. I felt like I was missing something but couldn't figure out what. Whatever it was, I'd handle it later. The list looked good. There were a lot of minor things I didn't put on there, like getting a new place to live, new clothes, car, all that jazz, but I just needed the major important things written out. Like an outline for an important essay, except for my life. I tucked the list away, making a note to transcribe it to a digital file later. I wouldn't make the mistake of anyone seeing it again.

I tossed my trash and walked over to the manager still tied up in the corner. I squatted down and looked her in the eyes. The manager had been terribly rude when I attempted to pay in the coins I had left, making insinuations as to the line of work I was in due to my clothing, and insisted that I vacate the premises with my dirty money. The fact that I was feeling a little self-conscious over the whole sleeping with a strange man and making possible further arrangements made me snap.

"Look at me, do you know who I am?" I asked in a low voice as I gripped the manager's face. She shook her head and I tightened my grip. "Watch the news. I am Angelique Montague, the Butcher of Stilwater, Leader of the 3rd Street Saints, and if you ever disrespect another woman again like that, I will make you eat your own reproductive organs." I smiled pleasantly. No one was going to make me feel bad about myself anymore.

XXX

"If you call me a tomato one more time," I growled as I slunk down into the plush couch.

"Angelique, darling, it's true," Eesh said with a grin as she patted my leg. "Tomatoes won't produce unless stressed, and as soon as you were stressed, you woke up."

"Plus, you look like one. Like one of those weird fucking heirloom ones. You know, when you're not trying out for a Kpop band?" Johnny helpfully added.

"You used that one already," I snapped at him, tossing a pillow at his head that hit a wall behind him. Shit, my aim was worse than before.

"Stop antagonizing her," Aisha huffed before getting up and retrieving it, but not before whacking Johnny upside the head with it.

"I'm not!" he huffed right back before slumping back down in his seat as he broke eye contact with her. Things weren't alright between the lovebirds. Eesh had been ignoring as much of his existence as possible and going by the sheets on the sofa he was sitting on, her bed was also off limits. The tension in the air was so thick, I felt like I was ten again. I wracked my memory, trying to remember how Babette would diffuse it when my parents were angry at each other. I was not one for jokes but, perhaps talking to them separately would help?

"I'm sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if I could have something to drink?" Aisha's glare immediately softened and her eyes lit up with friendliness again.

"Of course, I have just the thing for you!" She gave me one of her award-winning smiles that warmed me before sashaying away.

"What the shit is going on?" I hissed as soon as I was sure she was out of earshot. "I thought the two of you wouldn't be able to tear yourselves apart from each other." He crossed his arms and looked away from me.

"I don't have a clue what you're talking about, we're doing fine."

"Johnny, the tension is so thick in here you could shoot it."

"It's cut it. Has your English gotten worse while you were playing at Sleeping Beauty?"

I glared at him. The prison doctor wanted me to follow up with a neurologist to make sure I didn't have brain damage. I didn't want to know if I had it, and the idea was something I'd rather not think of. I'd rather pretend everything was fine, until it wasn't anymore. I'd deal with it then. That was the Capulet way.

"Fuck your English lesson, Gat. How did you fuck things up this time?"

"I didn't do anything!" He said a bit too quickly. "And it ain't any of your business, either." That's where he was wrong, I knew how he was when things weren't going well with Eesh. He was always more reckless, more prone to shoot, and worse, more likely to get himself hurt. I needed the opposite of that; I needed him to help me organize a new gang. Most of my plans hinged on his hidden abilities, which according to him were at peak when he gave her a dose of Nycock. And judging by those sheets, I wouldn't see that side of him for a while, if I let him take his time.

"Here you go, sweet thang. It's as sweet as you," Eesh said as she came back in the room, cutting off my chance to question him privately. The lemonade was tainted red from the sheer amount of cherries she had dropped in, the beloved sight of them making me coo in delight.

"So, bitter as shit sexed up with cop?" I glared at him. I had wondered when he was going to bring that up. Fucking, no, not just fucking, loving a cop was something that Johnny wouldn't let me forget, knowing him. I couldn't believe Troy, that bastard, lied to me, used me, and had been planning on taking my money, while I rotted in an institution. Was I that easy to use and throw away? Had anything even been real between us? And how the hell did he even find out about my money? I had never told him my real name. Had I slipped up somehow?

"Ji-hoon knock it off. Troy fucked us all," Eesh snapped, drawing me out of my reverie. Johnny crossed his arms, looking everywhere else but at her as she glared at him. "He hurt all of us."

"Yeah well, he fucked me first."

"Ji-hoon, I'm not going to sit here and argue over who was fucked the most," she said crossing her own arms. The look of murder in her eyes reminded me of my mother. This whole situation reminded me of my parents. Papa refusing to take whatever responsibility for what happened, and mamère torturing him with silence, glares, and teasing touches until he broke. Papa could take weeks to break, and I wasn't willing to wait for Johnny to break. That could take decades knowing him.

"Excuse me, neither one of you have room to even talk about who he fucked the most," I yelled in anger. I didn't want to talk about Troy to begin with, but listening them bicker about who was more hurt when I had been planning on marrying him was beyond the pale. "I don't want to hear anything more about Troy from either of you. The only thing I want to fucking hear is why the two of you are on the fucking outs." The pair had the grace to look guilty for a moment. "Now, what is going on with you two?"

"Yes, Ji-Hoon, what is going on between us?" Eesh said her tone as sweet as my drink as she bounced back. Johnny looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him. I raised a brow at the name. Gods, the two of them were like children.

"So, what did Johnny do?" I asked with a huff. Of course, I couldn't get a straight answer from either of them, I had to let them show off, jumping through hoops.

"I don't know, Ji-Hoon, what did you do?"

"Are you going to repeat everything she says?" Johnny snapped at her.

"I don't know, Ji-Hoon, she might," I cooed, not able to help getting back at him, hoping to set him off. Anger was usually a fast way to the truth with him.

"Hey, you don't get to call me that," he growled as he shot to his feet. Oh, this was the Johnny I knew, ready to square up in order to deflect whatever was going on with him and Eesh. I just relaxed in my seat, sipping my drink.

"I will call you whatever I please, because we both know you're not going to lay a hand on me. You're just trying to avoid responsibility for whatever you did this time." He flopped down on the sofa and pouted. "Don't you sit there and pout like a bitch, own up to whatever you did." After five minutes of silence, he didn't seem like he was going do anything else. I was slightly shocked that I hadn't pushed him over the edge. I wasn't like him to crumble like this. _Gods, how much had changed while I slept?_

I felt panic rising up, clawing its way into my thoughts. What if things were too different? Three years was a long time. What if Johnny wasn't up to things anymore? I didn't have the charisma to be the head of a gang without someone backing me. I needed the gang, it had been the closest thing to a family I had since Papa died. I had felt like I belonged, before someone took it all away from me. I could have kept Troy from betraying us all, I just knew it. I had to get things back together. I had to have power behind me as I knew he'd come for me again. That bastard, Dmitri.

Standing up, I held my hand out to Eesh. "Let's go get some froyo," I offered.

"Hey, that's our thing," Johnny protested.

"Perhaps stop being a bitch, and it will be," I said as she took my hand, and I slung my arm around the smaller woman. "But until then, I'm stealing your girl."

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave feedback as it helps with writing!


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